The True Book
by Shadowed Mediocrity
Summary: An excavation going on in Frond Castle has revealed a curious discovery.. a Book suspiciously similar to the ones that all faerie carry with them. Its contents are locked with a code that none can break- save one. And -his- memories have been locked away.


The True Book:

_Disclaimer_: In a terribly sad fashion, I am horrified to announce that I do not own Artemis Fowl. I have a little chibi of him, but he keeps running away. Honestly, I have no idea why! –angelic expression-

_Author's Note_: I haven't read Artemis Fowl in quite a while, so if there are any uncanon bits, please point them out and I will correct them as best I can.

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**Prologue:**

Fern Willow's fingers trembled within their gloves as he scraped carefully at the stone walls. He was only one amongst fifty other fairies in the room, performing that onerous procedure- but nevertheless, he felt special. They were so close.. so close..

It had been months since the excavation of the long-abandoned Frond Castle had begun- and three thousand years since anyone had entered it in the first place. Rumor had it that the last king of fairies had laid a curse upon it that would activate, should any tread within its stony confines after his death. And this was true; they had, in fact, discovered a scroll detailing the specific parameters of the curse: should any come through the doors of Frond Castle, fairykind would be doomed to a disharmony and disunity similar to that of the Mud Men. Brother would turn upon brother—and the feminist fairies had strongly protested that generality, but had been rejected in their quest for a "more equal" translation—until only a few were left standing.

Fern Willow, being in charge of the expedition, had strictly forbidden any other than the two who had discovered the scroll to see it. Fairies took their curses seriously, and should the news get about, the excavation would immediately be abandoned. And that Fern could not afford; he was on his last chance with the university already, having produced no fruits from his other labours. If he didn't find something of famed worth this time, they would retire him and put someone else in his position as head of fairykind's archeology department. And that he refused to risk.

Nevertheless, it must be stated that he felt deeply uneasy about explorer the ancient- cursed?- castle, and so, had ordered all fairies to enter through the windows. Loopholes, he told himself, were a wonderful thing- even if the fairies on the trip _did_ think him an utter loony for that particular order. And he could thank the University for allowing him to maintain all the authority of the University itself. It was a wonderful thing to give orders, and never have people think twice before obeying.

No one would be foolish enough to flout his rule about not entering any of the castle's doors.

At the moment this thought occurred, however, the great entrance doors were flung open.

"MISTER WILLOW!" The new entrant boomed, in the trumpeting voice of an elephant. "COME, DEAR SIR, AND SHOW ME WHAT PROGRESS YOU HAVE MADE UPON MY EXCAVATION!"

Fern winced slightly as he tottered towards the newly-entered fairy. Hamlet Frond had never been particularly subtle- but then, he didn't need to be. As one of the richest fairies _not_ on the Council, he had all the influence he needed.. not to mention the fact that he could hire people to be subtle for him. As the main sponsor to the University's funds, he had a right to intrude upon Fern's excavation and demand to see results.

This, however, didn't prevent the young fairy's hands from curling into fists, or from wishing that he could strangle the man.  
"If you'll please come this way, sir." He said politely, gesturing towards a corridor that had been completed two weeks past. He didn't want Frond anywhere near this particular scene if they discovered what all of them had been searching for ever since they had read a particular diary..

His luck, apparently, wasn't listening. For one of his more obsequious fairies immediately leapt upward, and turned his gaze towards his superior. "Mister Willow! Mister Willow!" He called, in a voice high enough to break glass. "I think I've found it!"

"FOUND WHAT?" Frond boomed, and Fern carefully restrained a shudder at his obstreperous manner. His self-control grew even more strained as he sought not to cower beneath the plump man's glower. "WHAT HAVEN'T YOU BEEN TELLING ME, FERN?"

"It's a bit of a long story, sir, and one I'd rather not have the rest of the excavation hear.." he mumbled, looking anywhere save at his sponsor. "If we could retire to a small-"

"I AM SURE THAT THESE FINE YOUNG EXAMPLES OF FAIRYKIND CAN STAND WHATEVER YOU HAVE TO SAY TO ME." Frond bellowed pleasantly. Fern noted blandly that by then, the majority of his diggers' attentions had been drawn to the conversation. Mentally, he sighed- this was _not_ the way that he would have chosen for them to find out that their excavation was very possibly cursed.. "GO ON, SIR. I AWAIT YOUR EXPLANATION WITH FASCINATION!"

"Don't you want to see the discovery?" The young fairy pouted, tossing blond locks with a casual air that might have seduced females of his kind, but had no effect whatsoever on Fern. _Shut up, Bloom._ He murmured mentally, a menacing undertone discoloring his voice- unfortunately, however, the young Bloom was not psychic. "It looks terribly important- and whatever's inscribed on it is written in a dialect of Gnommish that I can't understand.."

_That_ got Fern's attention. "But fairykind's Gnommish has _never_ evolved the way the humans' languages have! We base all our writings on our Books, which have _always_ remained the same! The Book has been around since the beginning of our culture! That's completely preposterous!" He spat these out in rapid succession, as though more determined to convince himself than he was to convince the young elf who stood before him, who was cultivating a blasé exterior- no doubt to hide a growing excitement beneath.

"Well, I don't know, sir, but from the techniques that you've taught me.. I'd say that the writing was written pretty damn long ago, so it can't possibly be a hoax." He had begun hopping from foot to foot again, and beckoned towards the two fairies to follow him. Bemusedly, Fern followed, with a quieted Frond in tow.

It wasn't long before the two of them were standing before the panel in question..

"See?" Bloom inquired rhetorically, for both fairies were peering at it quite fiercely. "It looks quite old, and the writing on it isn't anything that I've ever seen before.. And whenever I do _this_.." He pressed two fingers lightly against one of the inscriptions, and it began to glow a pristine, pallid blue for a few moments, before fading away into the dust.

"Fascinating.." Fern breathed- once more in his element. In the absorption of the moment, he seemed to have forgotten entirely about his unwelcome guest, and the even more unwelcome understudy of his who had made the discovery that ought, by all rights, to have been _his_. "This is a wonderful discovery that you have made, Bloom. Congratulations. I'll make sure that the University makes something of you when we get back- perhaps an acknowledgement in the papers that follow.. Gods, this is an unprecedented discovery." He glanced back at the two fairies, and his gaze was wildly delighted. "Do you two realize that we are _making history here_?"

"GET ON WITH IT, WILLOW." Frond rumbled sullenly. "AND DON'T MAKE ME HURT YOU FOR BABBLING SO MUCH. YOU'RE AN EXPERT ARCHEOLOGIST- DO YOUR GODSDAMNED DUTY, MAN."

Wordlessly, Fern returned to his passionate love affair with the inscriptions on the panel. "This is true magick- magick such as we haven't seen in several centuries.." He murmured, and a note of awe had entered his voice. "We still have magick, of course, but it's nowhere as powerful as whatever made these writings- they lasted over three thousandyears! The fairies today can barely get anything to last for more than a week using pure magic! But, of course, we've diluted our magic, and moved further underground.." He did not speak for a while longer- only remained before the panel, pressing runes seemingly at random, and watching them light with a ferocious joy in his expression.

Frond and Bloom were beginning to grow restless when a rumble ran beneath their feet, swelling through the castle as though it were about to explode. Several fairies glanced about nervously, but were treated to one of Fern's specially prepared glares, and swiftly returned to their work. He had trained them well; they would rather literally die, rather than risk the delicately-built elf's fury. "Don't disturb yourselves, gentlemen." He said, voice rich with satisfaction as he regarded the panel, which was beginning to tremble, as though threatening to implode. "It's just trying to work after three thousand years of rest- and it's working with the magic of a probably dead fairy. That's pretty damn impressive, considering."

They nodded, feeling that Fern was probably bluffing- and wishing that the nervous elf would simply shut up, as opposed to babbling so.

After a few more moments, the panel slid upwards, into some invisible slot, revealing a three-foot-high entrance. The three fairies entered easily- and Fern's glare gave the others the hint that they, as mere flunkies, would not be following.

The secret panel seemed to lead to an alcove of some kind- and one deserted for years longer than the castle itself, if the dust upon the floor was anything to judge. Any higher, and Fern would have been forced to swim through the room, as opposed to walking.

"Over there.." Bloom gasped, and pointed wildly. "I see something!" And indeed.. there _was_ something towards the center of the room. A dim, almost greenish glow surrounded the altar-like podium- as though still vividly lit, after a few thousand years, by the magic of whatever rested upon it. The altar itself was carved with letters- but the diminutive, wafer-thin book that rested upon it seemed to demand their attentions with far more insistence than any other object within the room.

Despite that demand, however, Fern forced himself to look at the inscriptions first, lest this prove to be the reason for the curse that Frond had placed upon the castle..

"It's written in a human language of some sort." Fern muttered. "I think I recognize it- it looks to be an older version of the common one they have now; English or something silly like that." His fingers dusted off the ancient scroll with something akin to reverence, and he began to read it aloud. A mistake, as it happened. In the years following this expedition, despite the attention that the media gifted him with, Fern would always wish that he'd just left the damn panel the way it was, as opposed to meddling with it.. and bringing upon fairykind its greatest tribulation yet..

_I wyll nivver gyve thys Boouke baccke too thee unwurthey faerie thatt exyst now. Kyng Frond mai surch all hys dais too fynd hys lost Booke, but thys wryting will reveel itself too none save iyes othur than his. And with the Tru Booke lost, his reign shall fall, and kings shall be no more.._

_Too whomever discovvers this- you havv fownd the True Booke of Faeriekind. Use itt wel, and live by its rules, faerie, for thys Booke is sacred._

Young Bloom was the first to break the silence, eyes wide with shock. "_D'Arvit_." He said slowly. "Does that mean that all of the imperatives that fairykind has followed for the past thousand years.. were fraudulent?"

_To be continued.._

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Author's Note: Well, what did you think? Horrible? Good? Uncanon? Tell me what you think in a review, and I'll get right back to you as soon as I can.


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